


Would you like me better if I had crossed eyes?

by 1545011



Category: 17th Century CE RPF, Philosophy RPF
Genre: Crying, Hurt/Comfort, Loss, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Stranger - Freeform, big dick, cock growth, conflicted - Freeform, excessive cum, hyper cock, multiple dicks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:55:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23647318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1545011/pseuds/1545011
Summary: I have loved René Descartes for so long, and it made me very sad when he died. I don't mean to tell people this, but it happens.
Relationships: God/René Descartes, Original Male Character/René Descartes, René Descartes/Helena Jans van der Strom
Kudos: 5





	Would you like me better if I had crossed eyes?

In his sadness, he had hoped to wake under better conditions. Either the days before were false, or there would be no awakening at all. 

He spent hours crying with passion, soiling the white neck of his linen shirt with tears and spittle. If it wasn’t the filth of his lamentations, it was the incessant clawing and roughness of his hands balling his clothes in agony that must be doing the most damage to them. Descartes had made himself to be a mess after getting snared into a fit of bereavement. 

On Monday the philosopher’s only daughter, Francine, had passed after an extended fever. Now it was Wednesday, and he was still in the midst of his grief. 

The first day had been nothing but defending his reactions to others who had told him to deny his passions. Understanding that it was useless to do so, and instead that it was right to embrace what came forth from him at this time, he retreated to his apartment. Helena, the mother of his child, held him for hours after his homecoming. 

There, they both wept and were too afraid to talk of the future. Any silence and the thought would creep towards the front of the couple’s minds. Unable to bring herself to speak past what had already been spoken comfortingly between them, Helena thought the best thing she could do is to get out of the apartment for a while.

Today was the second day, and Helena must be on an independent quest through her bereavement. René had been alone for nearly the whole day, and was largely processing his grief the same as the day before; Though obviously lacking in any obstructions in the form of others passing judgement on a man’s lament. René was indifferent in his current solitude, every strong emotion within him was completely focused on the absence of Francine. 

Waking late at just an hour after missing the sun rise, Descartes had returned to weeping. Before he knew it, the sun was setting once more, and his apartment was filled with an intense, orange bath of light. 

René Descartes was a beautiful man with a gorgeous mind. He was fair, and had dark, bold features. His facial hair grew too quick to maintain a clean cut appearance, and thus was stuck with a shadowy jawline and permanent goatee. While his wavy hair was grown to his shoulders, his bangs sat plainly on his face to form a frame.

With all this time for reflection, he could not help but cast blame on those who yesterday scrutinized him so harshly for being open about his loss. He sat on the floor of his apartment, his legs sprawled out around him as he leaned against the foot of his own bed to cry. 

In his mind, he had some fleeting inkling of God bearing witness to his display. Though, he did not have the endurance to explore that idea any further. Nothing could draw his focus away from his thoughts for Francine. But, there must be someone who understood the exact degree to which this had affected him.

“René.” A deep voice called out to him, and the philosopher lifted his head from his folded arms where he had been crying into. His sobs had been growing steadily weaker as exhaustion from his fit had set in.

A comforting sentiment was snaking its way closer to him wordlessly. “René.” The voice repeated, and this time it’s location was more concrete. 

Behind him was the culprit. And yet, the 44 year old did not hold any fear in him, nor consider the man standing behind him to be an intruder at all. How could he be? This surely was some development on his prior thought.

“It’s going to be okay.” He spoke the words in French to him. Then, the mysterious man who stood behind him placed a hand on his shoulder.

It felt small, he compared it to his own as his hand went to meet the other man’s. “You mean so much to me. René, you are so dear to me.” His deep voice was laden with an evident love. 

It was exactly what René needed to hear, his tears welled up again from the pleasant surprise, and he hummed happily to himself. He needed to see who this was.

Behind him, his good samaritan was paler than he was, and much shorter too. Where his hair was of the same dark brown color, it was perfectly straight and grown out to exceed his shoulders considerably. On his face was a common pointed moustache and beard, and underneath, his lips were thick. He was dressed humbly, in a simple rust-colored doublet. His boots had only the slightest of heel, and had toes which were rounded out severely. Over his head sat an unadorned, wide brimmed hat which had been carelessly shaped. 

He looked like his occupation could be that of a hunter or trapper, but the philosopher could not spot any equipment on him save for some scuffs and small frays in his doublet where a baldric would lie. 

“René.” The shorter man repeated, and then reached out to touch him but perhaps hesitated in the midst of doing so. “I came here just for you.” He bounced excitedly on his heel, the taller man in the now heavily wrinkled linen shirt could feel a pulsing electricity from his skin.

Everything he needed was being given to him through this shorter man. “Who are you?” He had to ask. Descartes’ voice shook with the repercussions of his sobbing.

“The Trinity. René, I had to come to Earth for you.” He paused not entirely understanding if Descartes had understood his explanation at first. “This is my first time coming to Earth, ever.” 

Something clicked in the disheveled Descartes; He felt emotions rolling over and over in his chest at this too-quick realization. 

Before him stood God, who was a tiny little thing on Earth. Instantly, his presence and divine apparition was explained. This was no strange intruder, and that is why the lonely man never felt for him to be. 

“You are so beautiful, my sweet René. I cannot believe it… I could not wait a moment more, I needed to be with you this instant.” God spoke to Descarte genuinely, his tone intimate.

“I’ll make you feel all better, my René.” He cooed, and they mutually embraced. 

Against him, Descartes could feel the hardening flesh of the shorter man’s generous member. The philosopher had no idea that God loved him this way, but then again, his mind was still struggling to absorb the fact that he had come to Earth just for him in his time of need. 

His arousal confused him, and Descartes face grimaced but had started to flush. It felt so good, but this new knowledge, and especially what he felt the shorter man was packing below the belt was such a big surprise. 

The short man in his orange outfit had an obscenely girthy bulge pressed against the philosopher’s thigh. Probably, it was longer than his own forearm and thicker than a bottle of beer. 

He could feel it engorge and become turgid against himself… This is what confused René more; All his life he had only ever been attracted to women, and yet his own dick he could feel grow hard while the two men held each other.

“My, my. You’re so tall.” The Trinity admired the taller man. His hands explored Descartes’ frame, feeling around his masculine shoulders and tracing every inch of him lovingly. 

“Are you my big man, René?” The shorter man spoke breathlessly to him, rearing up on the tips of his toes to whisper into the tall philosopher’s ear. 

René no longer held any reservations about the direction God was taking him. His own erect dick strained conspicuously against the front of his breeches. He nodded in response to him, stifling whatever weak, aroused cry his body had longed to let out. 

“I would like to show you something, René…” The deep voice of God spoke to him as his hand went to grope the philosopher’s cock. 

He played with it, while Descartes had started to squirm and bite his lip lest he utter some pathetically erotic moan. His finger pressed down on the tip of it, releasing and then setting it springing teasingly. Then, his hand went to encircle it through the fabric. The front of his breeches were turning dark with Descartes’ precum. 

“Oh, so it’s true… René, you are my big boy.” He slid his encircled fingers up and down the shaft of Descartes. It was a decent size, if not slightly above average. He continued like so as he spoke to him. 

“But, I would like you to feel something fantastic.” At these words, Descartes could feel his Lord’s own heavy dick throb excitedly against his thigh; Initially he thought that his next action would pivot upon that. 

An intense arousal gripped him then, and forced Descarte to cry out. His eyes grew enormous, he could feel his erection expanding further at a shocking pace. He could feel something more happening under his breeches. Looking down, he saw multiple bulges struggling to break free from his breeches, even visibly throbbing from under the fabric. The philosopher struggled to find the words to ask God for clarification, but this line of thoughts was terminated in his head by the feeling of his heavy ball sack filling out the remainder of his breeches. He was already drooling as he cried out from the heavenly sensations. It was just so heavy, he could swear he felt his testes grazing against both of his thighs, nearly to his knees. 

“Isn’t that amazing?” God laughed sexily to him, his two free hands now occupied with exploring his frame. He shifted how he was standing, so he could get a better view of his René’s obscene bulge. Unsatisfied with the obvious ambiguity in his human lover, the shorter man rudely tore down the tall philosopher’s breeches so that his new endowment was completely undeniable. 

Four penises, each pulsing and leaking precum independently of each other jutted out from Descartes’ crotch. They seesawed lewdly as they sprang free from the middle aged man’s breeches. His huge sack was next, the weight was completely maddening to the human man as it swung heavily free. They openly swelled, until each juicy orb was nearly the same size as his own head. They completely eclipsed his legs from the knees up, swelling several inches past his outer thighs. 

Descarte moaned desperately, in complete disbelief as he saw this happen to him. Spittle resumed running from the corners of his mouth, René felt like he was losing control of himself here; As if he was just at the mercy of his new levels of arousal.

He felt like a cow, he had no clue how his Lord could have come to this conclusion that this would help him get over the death of his only daughter. What if he was like this forever, a big-dicked hopelessly indecent? His career would be over with. Sure, he could argue that God had endowed him so, but what proof could he offer? Surely, the others would mock him, call him an abomination, and so forth… Just like they had mocked him while he cried for Francine. 

His cocks were steadily growing before his eyes, too. Where they had been perhaps the same size as the man who had returned to standing behind him, they now were struggling to support their own weight. Each shaft he could feel hanging heavily from his nethers, thicker than his own calf and long as his own arm. Veins big enough to fit multiple fingers on running down the length of each thick shaft. His foreskins were uniformly pulled taught behind the heads of his penises; René could say now with confidence that he was fully erect. 

“What do you say, René?” God’s hands patted two of his girthy members lovingly, before going to jiggle his heavy sack around for another tease.   
  


Perpetually confused, he had no clue what to say. Instead, continuing his shrieking gasps of erotic ecastacy at the shorter man’s divine touch. He was sweating really hard now, his chest hair was plastered to his frame and his skin was shining in the sunlight that was starting to turn dim in his apartment.

“René, what’s the matter? You human men strive to be endowed all your lives, or to make it up with your charm. And now, you’re big beyond your wildest imaginations and you have nothing to say? Can you even imagine how much seed you have now? You could impregnate four women at once on the first try, and have billions of sperm to spare.” The Trinity kissed on René Descartes’ neck after explaining his exact endowment to him.

His words twisted and strung in the philosopher’s mind. Quickly, he was losing track of himself at complete mercy of his God, and wherever his arousal was guiding him. Was this real? 

‘I was so vulnerable earlier, this could not be true. God could not have come to Earth just for me. This is just some bizzare dream, I swear on it. My mind is playing tricks on me in my turmoil.’ The hope he had been weighing to himself before going to sleep the previous night had remained relevant to the grieving father. 

He felt conflicted, his hips bucking forward to meet the shorter man’s hands, and revelling in the sensation of his throbbing cocks frotting against each other; And yet being consumed by his fear of what will become of him after this. It was an absurd, erotic dilemma. 

“Okay, you don’t believe me?” The Trinity struggled to heft up both of the dicks in his hands, rubbing them together with the ones he was unable to attend to. He hummed arousedly, seeing the precum flow more readily from his members in response to this stimulation. “I’ll have to show you then.” He rubbed his cheek on René, loving on him like he had wanted to when he saw the young man appear on Earth for the first time. 

The two he held were already close when he started to work his divine touch on them. Stroking them lovingly, his dark eyes peering over to René’s masculine, beet red and sweating face, he could feel the dick in his hands swell at the volume of semen being expelled from them. 

His chest heaved, and he gasped endlessly in his orgasm. He could feel the thick seed forcing itself out of both dicks, his twin ejaculation spread on for nearly a full minute until the last of his cum ceased to only thick dribbles down the underside of his two softening members. His exhausted pants of post ecstacy did not cease. 

He could not keep his eyes open to look at the monster of fertility God had made him during the first milking, and now he could not keep his eyes open whether he liked it or not. 

“You have two more left, René. Don’t tell me that this is too much for you to handle.” He could feel the taller man’s legs shaking like he wouldn’t be able to stand for much longer. 

‘I should change him back when he’s done… This is why I gave men only one.’ The shorter man thought to himself, his hands travelling to the impatient dicks throbbing eagerly to be milked. He started slow, watching the taller man’s eyes flutter and catch his breath as he pleasured him. Tilting his head and humming to himself happily, this was all he ever wanted after wanting René for so many years.

Using all of his little tricks, twisting his hands as he jerked off his enormous dicks, rubbing them against one another, The Trinity soon had the philosopher ready to go again. 

Upon the floor in front of his bed was already a thick puddle of semen, and it was about to be doubled in volume. 

With a shrieking cry, Descartes shot forward his seed once more into his own messy pile; The forceful streams of semen made the fluids on the floor splatter and spread inconsiderably. Surely, the amount was so great that each penis could have filled two gallon jugs alone. 

The Trinity stopped Descartes from stumbling forward into his own mess. His body was alive with pleasure, and his mind was delirious from their activities. The shorter man held him close to him, pulling them both onto the bed that Descartes and Helena had shared. 

‘At least he could have a good night’s sleep that was not brought to him through some agonizing fit of crying.’ God thought to himself as he pet the taller man’s beautiful hair as he lay weakly in his arms. 

With a blink, he had changed the philosopher’s nethers back to what they were prior. He had enough fun with what was given to him today, but it was best not to overwhelm the poor man any more past this. He nodded to himself as he thought this. 

It was near silence that the two sat in, save for the small moans and babbles from the 44 year old in the shorter man’s arms as he was still caught in the afterglow of 4 orgasms at the behest of God. 

“You were going to ask me, ‘How does this help me?’ earlier?” He continued petting the philosopher’s hair. “I hope you have your answer, René. I hope this gives you time to clear your head.” He leaned down to kiss his face. “I love you. Whoever gets to touch you, to see you, they are lucky. They were so, so lucky. I love you, René. I love you.” The shorter man tucked him in, his fingers tracing his arms and neck lovingly, hesitant to leave his presence. Helena would return just minutes after God returned to Heaven, seeing Descartes' mess and unable to put two and two together. Instead, she cleaned it up and went to sleep next to him after wrapping her arms around his warm, masculine torso. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading me. Please tell me what you thought.


End file.
